Thick
by AlexDayLover
Summary: Sometimes, you need to re-evaluate your stance on life. John Watson takes some time to figure out something that Sherlock has known for a while. Sherlock waits, and knows that John just needs time. Not everyone has his powers of deduction, after all.


John was comforting the new widow who was standing off to the side of the crime scene. She didn't seem to particularly need comforting, as she wasn't crying or weeping and in fact seemed pleased at all the attention, but it gave John something to do whilst Lestrade examined the body and Donovan and Anderson growled at Sherlock. The sociopath in question was at this moment trying to determine what sort of shampoo the body had used, or at least that's what it looked like to John.

The widow, name: Lilah Mary Withers, age: 42, job: salon clerk, position in society: renowned slut, was actually QUITE enjoying the attention from the awkward army man and batted her long eyelashes.

John, being thick as usual, didn't notice until Lilah sidled up to him and proclaimed, "I don't know how I'll ever be able to find someone to replace my husband. Would you help me in my search?" From that moment he had quite a difficult time dodging her advances.

Sherlock, having determined the shampoo, moved on to the hands to detect the brand of soap. While he was looking at the wedding ring (clean, removed frequently), his sixth sense reserved only for very important moments started buzzing. Raising his head, he looked around for anything that might be deemed important.

He saw John and Lilah.

John was trying to keep Lilah from cuddling up to him, suggesting in no uncertain terms that she might ought to be sad for her husband'd passing. Lilah replied, equally blunt, that she didn't care and found John fascinating.

"John! I need a time of death!" Sherlock called, looking back at the body.

John immediately turned away and ran to Sherlock. "I thought the Yard already did that. 10:24 pm yesterday?"

Sherlock hmm'ed and said, "The Yard is incompetent. You're not. Time of death, go."

John didn't question Sherlock, because a) he kind of sort of agreed that the Yard couldn't do anything, b) arguing with Sherlock was useless, and c) he was quite honestly glad to be away from Lilah.

He didn't catch that Sherlock had just complimented him.

John leaned down to examine the dead man, and Sherlock gazed at his face, at the look of concentration, for just a moment before heading off to make a fool of Anderson.

The time of death was estimated at 3:10, that morning.

***

Sherlock was sitting on the couch, screeching away at the violin. John came down dressed in not his favorite jumper, though it was Saturday, the day John reserved for that comfy element, but in a considerably nicer one. His hair was combed and as he walked down the stairs to leave, mumbling to Sherlock about having errands to run, Sherlock knew immediately that John was lying, why he was lying, and also what John was lying about.

He pretended not to hear John and continued butchering the violin. When he knew John was out of earshot, he played a low, mournful, beautiful song, then tossed the instrument aside and stood. Bounding across the room with his long legs, he swiftly grabbed his coat and shoes and followed John.

Being a high-functioning sociopath and also a genius, he had been deducing that John was planning a date all week and even discovered the planned location: Angelo's. With his superior knowledge of London's roads and alleys, he actually made it there earlier than John, claiming a seat in a very conspicuous location.

Angelo looked curiously at him, wondering where the man's blogger was. Sherlock winked. Angelo nodded, chuckled to himself, then ordered the busboy to go and prepare the meal for the elderly couple that was getting impatient.

When John arrived, he was both annoyed, surprised, and yet not surprised to see Sherlock sitting there drinking tea. The girl that he had been going to meet hadn't arrived yet, so he felt confident about confronting Sherlock.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded.

Sherlock looked surprised. "Doing? I am drinking tea, obviously. Has your brain suddenly lost a third of it's cells?"

"You were at the flat not ten minutes ago." John hissed.

"And you said you were running errands. Yet, here we both are. Strange, isn't it?" Sherlock turned back to his tea.

John spluttered, and as he tried to think of a response, his date walked in. She tapped him on the shoulder, but he was too busy to notice.

Sherlock, who of course had been preparing for this, swiftly said, "Hello, I'm afraid John has forgotten his medication today. You'll have to excuse him. I'm sure he'll find another time to go on a date with you. Goodbye."

The girl, who had been surprised at John's situation, amused at his face, a bit disgusted at the word "medication", and angry at the rude man, lifted her nose and stormed out of the restaurant, intent on never speaking to John again.

Sherlock thought it was a real shame that she had had to mislead her boyfriend to come all the way here, just to turn around and leave again. Maybe she should just be faithful, he mused.

John was still incapable of speech, so Sherlock stood, clutched his arm, and guided him home. Halfway there John regained his voice and started yelling at Sherlock, but Sherlock just held onto John's arm and didn't say a word.

***

John was at the pub. Next to him was a girl who was trying to make conversation and had been for a good ten minutes. The reason for the delay was that John kept recieving texts from Sherlock, (who unbeknownst to him was watching from the skylight in the roof), every time she looked like she might speak.

Did you remember milk?  
- SH

Get it yourself.  
- JW

But then I'd have to walk to the store.  
- SH

Yes, that's how one buys milk.  
- JW

But I don't want to.  
- SH

Well tough nuts.  
- JW

John. We need milk. I can't have my tea without milk.  
- SH

So bloody go and get some!  
- JW

No.  
- SH

Sherlock, I'm not going.  
- JW

I'll watch a movie with you. Any movie you want, and I won't even complain.  
- SH

This one caused a good five-minute gap in between texts, and the girl had just begun to perk up and open her mouth when John began typing again.

No spoiling it for me?  
- JW

Not even the smallest observation.  
- SH

And will there be snacks?  
- JW

If you buy them.  
- SH

Alright. I'll buy milk, and I'm renting a movie, and we are watching it as soon as I get home, goddamnit!  
- JW

Already settled.  
- SH

John got up and left, leaving money on the counter, much to the girl's dismay. Sherlock, grinning way too wide for what had just taken place, scampered off the roof and all the way home.

The movie was The Odd Couple.

***

After three more date failures and two more make-up movies, John realized something.

Sherlock was once again trying to kill his violin when John walked into the room.

"Sherlock, I'm going out. I'll be back soon." He said in a daze.

Sherlock looked at him, looked at his dilated pupils and the heavy breathing, and played another mournful tune, knowing that John had found out finally.

John walked out of the flat with a vague sense of direction, and when he bumped into Lestrade he was momentarily fazed. Lestrade saw the look on his face, immediately knew what had happened, gave John some advice, and sent him home.

Sherlock was lying on the couch in the traditional bored-and-praying-for-another-case pose when he heard the door knob rattle. Scrambling to sit up and open the laptop on the coffee table, he heard John come in, survey the room, go upstairs, then come down again.

Then he felt a weight next to him as John plopped down on the couch, opened Sherlock's laptop (as Sherlock was using his), and start typing on his blog.

A few minutes after, John reached out and entwined his fingers with Sherlock's. Both men smiled.


End file.
